


Some Sort Of Queen

by nuclearjessels



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Shire fic, Thorin is a dork, Young Frodo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearjessels/pseuds/nuclearjessels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was almost a year now that Bilbo Baggins had been stirred awake most mornings by the sound of little Hobbit feet scurrying around Bag End. The heavy dwarven footsteps that followed after, however, were new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Sort Of Queen

It was almost a year now that Bilbo Baggins had been stirred awake most mornings by the sound of little Hobbit feet scurrying around Bag End. The heavy dwarven footsteps that followed after, however, were new. Waking up with the sun already high in the sky and the smell of freshly brewed tea and bacon wafting into his bedroom was also new. Smiling, he pulled himself out of bed, donned his patchwork robe and padded down the hall to find the source of the smell and the commotion, but if he was going to be entirely honest with himself, it was mostly the smell that he was interested in. When he rounded the corner to the kitchen he found his little nephew sitting on the counter elbows deep in what appeared to be a bowl of pancake batter. 

There didn't seem to be a clean spot on him, the stuff was caked into his curls, dried on his face, and smeared all over the kitchen cabinets. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, and perhaps one of the most important dwarves in all of middle earth, was desperately trying to wipe him off with a damp cloth as the bacon that had been so enticing only a moment ago began to smoke. Bilbo rushed over to the stove, pulling the pan away from the heat quickly enough that it was still edible at least.

“Uncle Bilbo! We’re making you pancakes!” Frodo chirped, pulling his hands out of the bowl to push Thorin and his washcloth away. With a sharp exhalation of breath Thorin turned to look at Bilbo, the apology in his eyes evident.

“We were attempting to make breakfast.” he said with a weary glance at the state of the kitchen. It was all Bilbo could do not to laugh aloud at the sight of them. Frodo was now attempting to clean off his hands on his trousers, and Thorin had his unruly mass of hair tied back and was wearing only a stained undershirt and a pair of trousers, flour dusting his beard and settling into the frown lines on his face. Using his thumb to swipe away a stray glob of pancake batter on Thorin’s cheek, he said.

“I think I can manage from here, boys.” he turned to his nephew. “Frodo, I want you to go with Thorin and get cleaned up, okay?” 

Frodo nodded and stretched his arms out to Thorin, who gingerly picked him up and with another apologetic nod to Bilbo carried him out of the room. Shaking his head and laughing to himself, Bilbo set about slicing some bread to make toast, a much safer option than pancakes, he reasoned. After the toast was in the oven he figured eggs wouldn’t be amiss either, and tossed a few into a pan. The bacon, it appeared, had mostly survived, and he cut up one of slices onto a small plate for Frodo. Rationing out the rest of breakfast onto plates, he grabbed the tea tray and set the table. He had just poured himself his first cup when Thorin and Frodo returned, looking clean. Well, clean enough. Frodo scampered up onto the bench and dug into his meal, humming contentedly and thanking his uncle through large mouthfuls of egg. Thorin began eating with only slightly more dignity, at least waiting until he had swallowed his massive bite of bacon to say,

“I was thinking perhaps we should take Frodo to Brandyhall to visit with his cousins today.”

Frodo nodded his head vigorously at this and said, “I wanna see Merry and Pip!” Bilbo frowned around a bite of toast.

“I’m not entirely sure that would be wise. Remember the last time I brought you around and old Gorbadoc went off about how I was corrupting his kin with my, how did he put it? Queer associates? Because I am having a hard time forgetting that.” 

“I was hoping that you and I could have some time alone this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Bilbo stammered, feeling a blush creeping into his cheeks. Somehow after everything they'd been through Thorin still managed to catch him off guard with his bluntness. “In that case I don’t see why not. I’ll have to give him a proper bath though, can’t have the Brandybuck’s thinking I’m an unfit guardian.”

Thorin nodded, turning back to his breakfast. The rest of the meal continued in relative silence, Bilbo breaking it only once to chastise Frodo for attempting to sneak pieces of egg into his pockets. It hadn’t even been a year yet, but living with a child was one of the most challenging adventures of Bilbo’s life. It literally never ceased to amaze him just how filthy they could get. He couldn’t help but marvel at this fact again as the bathwater was a grimy grey color within minutes. At this point, Bilbo was an old pro at bath time. Thorin was taking a bit longer to get situated, it had been 70 years or so since Fili and Kili were babes and he had helped care for them. Even so, having him around was an enormous help at times like now, as he left the squirmy little hobbit in the dwarf’s capable hands to get dried and dressed. As Bilbo cleaned and dressed himself his thoughts began to wander to exactly why Thorin wanted to spend alone time with him. 

It’s not like he needed a reason, really. When Thorin had arrived on his doorstep two months ago he most definitely wasn’t expecting to find his burglar with a child in his charge. For a few hilarious hours Thorin legitimately thought that Frodo was his own son, due to the similarity of their coloring and the fact that he had absolutely no idea how hobbit reproduction worked. It had taken Bilbo a while to stop laughing long enough to explain that no, he didn’t need to make any alterations to the inheritance of the throne of Erebor, and that hobbits did, in fact, have children in much the same way dwarves did. 

After the initial confusion passed, Thorin had been nothing but accommodating. Frodo did, however, require a lot of looking after. This had left little precious time for the two of them to actually be together and rebuild the fragile relationship that was left in ruins after the events of the Battle of Five Armies. Thorin made it out alive, but just barely. There were a few awful weeks where Bilbo neither slept nor ate, wasting away to nothing at Thorin’s bedside, crushing guilt for what he had done and fear that his king would be taken from him overwhelming his every sense. When Thorin finally awoke their tense reunion culminated in Bilbo running away to the Shire, unable to live with himself and his betrayal. Somehow Thorin had forgiven him, and went beyond himself to prove it, leaving his sister on the throne and making the long journey to the Shire.

“Are you ready, Bilbo?” Thorin asked from the doorway to the room they were sharing, startling Bilbo from his thoughts. And he truly was startling. His face was washed, his dark hair re-braided and falling across his shoulders. He was wearing his old royal blue tunic, trousers and boots. His beard had been getting longer recently, he could now braid it in a single plait at his chin. 

“You look more dwarvish than usual,” Bilbo remarked as he looked at him, a blush creeping down his neck. 

“Is that a compliment?” Thorin asked, taking a step into the room.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Bilbo said as he closed the gap between them to kiss the ridiculous dwarf right on the mouth. He could feel Thorin’s smile as his hands came up to rest on the hobbit’s waist. 

“And you look very Hobbity today, my dear.” he said. “Now hurry up. Daylight’s wasting and I have plans for us.”

—- 

The walk to Brandyhall did not take long. Frodo ran half the way, stopping occasionally to shout back at the pair of them, begging them to hurry up. Once they arrived, Bilbo, in an untoward display of rudeness, declined to join his cousins for second breakfast, and left with nothing but a brief hello and quick kiss to Frodo’s curls. He laughed out loud as he and Thorin continued down the road, Thorin joining in even though Bilbo doubted he had any idea why. 

“So where are we off to, oh master planner?” he asked, sliding his hand into Thorin’s larger one. 

“I packed some food, I was thinking of heading down to the river. I have some things I wish to discuss with you.”

“Sounds serious,” Bilbo teased. When Thorin did not smile in return, Bilbo’s face sobered, and they continued the walk down to the river in silence. But they did not let go of each other’s hands. They passed a few stray hobbits on the road, all of whom tried very hard to appear like they weren’t staring and did a very poor job of it. Bilbo was used to it at this point, the stares and whispers Thorin garnered. It was no skin off his back, and he had never been happier.

When they arrived at Bilbo’s favorite spot along the river Thorin spread out an old quilt on the grass beneath the shade of the thick trees and sat down, pulling out the knife he kept in his belt and began slicing bread and cheese. Bilbo stretched and breathed deep the sweet smell of the water mint and coltsfoot that grew along the water. If it was a bit warmer they could go swimming, but the spring air still had a nip to it, and the water was icy cold. He turned his back to the gently flowing river, moving to sit with Thorin on the blanket. He grabbed an apple from the pack and bit into it. 

“So what was it that you wanted to talk about?” he asked. They fact that they had matters to discuss hadn’t left his thoughts since Thorin had said something on the road here, and the intensity in Thorin’s face made him nervous. They had been living in a bubble of domestic bliss these past months but Bilbo knew enough of the world to know that it couldn’t last forever. 

Thorin paused, setting aside the knife and loaf of bread, and turned to meet Bilbo’s eyes, “I recieved a letter from Dis yesterday. She wanted to know when I was planning on returning to Erebor.”

His words hit Bilbo like the blunt edge of a sword, all of his fears confirmed. 

Thorin continued, “She is more than capable of ruling in my absence, but it is not fair to her or my people for me to be gone so long when so much needs to be done to rebuild what the dragon destroyed.”

“Of…of course,” was all Bilbo was able to force out, turning to focus on the apple that had lost its taste in his mouth.

“It is my wish to begin the return journey within the next fortnight.”

Bilbo felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe. He set down the apple in the grass next to him, his hands moving to grasp his elbows. Thorin had just come back to him, giving him a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved. And now he was going to loose him again. He would have to tell Frodo. He couldn’t imagine how it would effect the boy loosing another parental figure so soon after his parent’s deaths. Bilbo would become the joke of all Hobbiton, the Baggins who disappeared, the queer one with the dwarf lover who left him a widower not in body but in his heart. 

“I am going to miss you, you big idiot.” he whispered to his feet. 

Thorin grabbed both of Bilbo’s hands in his own. “I mean for you to come with me, master burglar. You and Frodo both.” 

Bilbo tilted his head to look at him, the tension he was holding in his brow and shoulders evident, speaking volumes about Thorin’s own nerves. 

“Hobbits in Erebor? What will people say?” Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hands, the anxiety he felt at the possibility of loosing him melting away as quickly as it had come.

Thorin laughed, pulling Bilbo into his arms in an embrace reminiscent of their very first, atop the carrock all those months ago. “There is one more thing,” he said as they pulled apart, “I…um…well I spoke to Master Gamgee. So If I get this wrong it is not my fault.” He fumbled around in the pack, pulling out a slightly mangled bunch of flowers. “I understand that it is traditional for hobbits to gift each other with flowers as a declaration of intent.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, “Intent of what?” he asked. 

“Courting,” Thorin said, down casting his eyes as he blushed scarlet, “Marriage.” 

“You’re asking to marry me?” 

“That was what I was attempting, yes.”

“Then yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” 

Thorin smiled, a glint of possessiveness in his eyes that would have been frightening if Bilbo wasn’t so ridiculously happy. He practically snarled as he dove to kiss him, pinning Bilbo down on the quilt. He wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s back, kissing him just as fiercely in return. It wasn’t fair for him to be this happy. Yavanna wasn’t supposed to play favorites, but he supposed that sometimes she slipped up and was a little bit too good to him. When Thorin pulled away he looked as if he had just won a great battle victory, Bilbo was half expecting him to start beating his chest and howling. 

Instead he said, “We will have to do this officially when we return to Erebor. Dwarven courting is much more involved than simple flowers, and I will be expected to adhere to our customs even if my choice of mate is a little less than traditional.” 

Bilbo frowned up at him, “Am I expected to be some sort of queen or something? Because nothing of that nature was in my contract.”

“Consort, not queen.”

“I guess that is a little bit better.” Bilbo stroked the side of his king’s face, “You know I’d do anything for you, Thorin.”

Thorin nodded as he kissed his palm. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

Thorin kissed him again, and if being consort to the King Under the Mountain meant being kissed like this for the rest of his life, that he could live with.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i know this is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff but i hope you guys enjoyed it. as aways, feedback is very welcome :)


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